“Sure,” I manage, my voice thin.
She carefully steps down from the pedestal, gathering the heavy skirts in her delicate hands, leading me into a secluded room in the back. Closing the door gently, she turns, her face open, vulnerable. It twists something deep inside me.
“You’re not okay, Camille,” she whispers softly, her voice apologetic, careful. “I’m not Lena, but I still know when something’s wrong.”
A brittle ache cracks inside my chest. My breath shudders slightly, the truth scraping at my throat, begging for release. “I’m just…tired.”
She takes another step forward. “Of pretending?”
The words hit sharply, piercing deep. “Maybe,” I admit quietly.
Her eyes study me, so damn gentle, so forgiving. Clara has always been softer, braver, unafraid to feel things openly, honestly. Things I could never let myself feel.
“Cam, whatever you’re hiding, whatever it is, it’s killing you,” she says carefully, but firmly. “I’ve watched you for weeks. You’re coming apart, and I’m scared.”
My eyes burn with the threat of tears. I press my hand to my mouth, trapping the truth before it spills, raw and unfiltered, into this fragile moment.
She steps closer, her hands capturing mine. Warm. Steady. Grounding me. “You don’t always have to carry everything alone. Not even you.”
A sob tries to break free, strangling my voice as I whisper, finally honest, “What if everything I’ve built, everything I’ve become is all for the wrong reasons?”
She squeezes my fingers gently, unflinching. “Then maybe it’s time to build something else. Something real.”
“I don’t know how,” I whisper, my voice breaking beneath the weight of the truth. “It’s not that simple. Mom, Dad, Preston…they all expect things. I have expectations. I always meet them.”
She steps even closer, soft but relentless. “And are you happy?”
“No,” I whisper. “Not even close.”
Her grip tightens, loving but determined. “I see you, Camille. Behind the perfect image, the fake smiles, the flawless surface. You’re exhausted. You’re breaking.”
My chest aches so sharply it steals my breath, and tears finally spill, hot and silent. “I feel trapped, Clara.”
Gently, she lifts a hand, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I’m your sister. I love you…no matter what. Whatever you choose, whoever you choose, I’m here. Always.”
I grip her fingers desperately afraid she’ll disappear if I loosen my hold. “What if I disappoint everyone?”
“What if you finally set yourself free?” Her voice is a quiet challenge. “You can’t keep drowning yourself just so everyone else stays comfortable.”
We stand in silence, her words digging deep, resonating painfully, beautifully.
“I’m terrified,” I whisper finally.
She smiles softly, eyes shining with tender understanding. “Good. That means you’re finally being honest.”
A soft knock interrupts the fragile moment. The boutique assistant peers in apologetically. “Ready for final measurements?”
Clara squeezes my hand again, gentle strength flowing into me. “Are we?”
I nod slowly, wiping the remaining tears away. “Yeah. We’re ready.”
She starts toward the door but pauses, looking back with piercing sincerity. “Promise me something, Cam?”
“What?”
“Remember your life is yours,” she whispers fiercely. “Only yours. Screw everyone else.”
Her words ache beautifully in my chest, scary and freeing all at once. “I’ll try.”
